


Every Boy Needs a Dog

by Udunie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bestiality, Knotting, M/M, Panic Attacks, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A… service dog?” John asked dubiously. </p><p>The four of them relocated to the living room. He felt like he was missing something, honestly, he didn’t even know that Alan and Ms Morrell were siblings. </p><p>“Ugh, I’m not, like… blind, or something,” Stiles said. He was looking at the dog warily. No wonder, the thing was huge; John would have thought that it was actually a black wolf, but he didn’t think wolves could even grow this large.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Hi I don't know if you're still taking prompts... but anyway... i would love to if you write about Peter/Stiles, Peter being a therapy dog, because Stiles is being bullied at school. So Peter is really into it and like to make Stiles happy, and Stiles like to reward the dog/wolf in everyway he can think of (hopefully a sexual reward)... so yeah something like that. I aprecciate if you do it, THX.  
> +  
> Anonymous said:I would like it if you write a bestiality fic without rape

John was at a loss. All he wanted to do was to be with his son, but he knew that he had to talk to Ms Morell at one point, and since Stiles was sleeping in the school nurse’s office, this was as good a time as any.

This had been the third panic attack in a week, and he was running out of options.

“Maybe I should just… home school him,” he said in defeat. He didn’t like the idea; he always thought that kids needed to be among other kids to socialize and what-not, but this was getting out of hand.

“That is a possibility,” the counselor said with a small nod. John was kind of envious of her composure, but it wasn’t her kid suffering. “But I would keep that as a last resort.”

John couldn’t help laughing at that bitterly.

“Yeah, well. As it is, he’s missing almost half of his classes so I don’t see any other option. We tried some medication, but they kind of messed him up with his ADHD and everything. If he’s on them, he’s like a zombie. I hate it, he hates it, I won’t make him take those pills if they make him miserable.”

John wished that Scott and Melissa had stayed in Beacon Hills. The McCall kid was the one and only friend Stiles managed to find in high school and his loss had hit the boy hard. Of course, he had panic attacks since his mother got sick, but having someone around helped a lot. 

“Just give me a few weeks, I might be able to arrange something,” Ms Morrell said somewhat mysteriously. John started to understand why Stiles couldn’t stand her.

* * *

Peter had to admit that when he told Alan that he needed some help to lay low for a while this was definitely not what he had in mind.

* * *

The Stilinski house was not a cheery place that Saturday morning. 

Stiles had a nightmare that quickly escalated into another panic attack and kept them up half the night. John wanted him to stay in bed and rest like a teenager should on the weekend - he had enough on his plate without adding sleep deprivation -, but the boy was adamant about getting up early because he missed a lot of classes and refused to fall behind.

So, they were both sitting sullenly by the table eating breakfast at eight in the morning.

John sighed. He just… he had no idea what to do anymore. He mentioned the home schooling to Stiles, but from the look on the boy’s face, he might as well have slapped him.

Stiles opened his mouth, but before he could talk the bell was ringing.

They looked at each-other in question. It was pretty early for a social all, not like they had many friends left…

John was the one to answer the door and honestly, finding Ms Morrell and the town vet on his doorstep was definitely not what he was expecting. Not to mention that enormous dog.

* * *

“A… service dog?” John asked dubiously. 

The four of them relocated to the living room. He felt like he was missing something, honestly, he didn’t even know that Alan and Ms Morrell were siblings. 

“Ugh, I’m not, like… blind, or something,” Stiles said. He was looking at the dog warily. No wonder, the thing was huge; John would have thought that it was actually a black wolf, but he didn’t think wolves could even grow this large.

“There are many different types of service dogs. Some work with people who are mentally ill or have some other kind of disability,” Ms Morrell said with a small smile.

John could see the way Stiles’ back tensed.

“I’m not crazy either. I mean, yeah, okay so I have some panic attacks but seriously. A service dog is like a giant billboard saying ‘there’s something very wrong with this guy’…”

The woman regarded Stiles calmly before replying.

“Stiles, I understand that you feel like you have to downplay your condition, but the fact is that you are going to fail several classes if you keep going like this,” she said. John didn’t like to see the way his son just kind of curled in on himself, but knew that she was right. Even though, that didn’t mean he was going to jump into this headfirst. He turned to Alan instead, since, apparently he was the one to get the animal.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but I though you had to undergo some serious training to get a dog like this?”

The vet nodded.

“Generally, yes. Stiles would have to get into a program and the dog would be trained to his own specific needs. But, Peter is a special case,” he said, glancing at the dog sitting by his feet. “He’s a certified service dog, his owner was a veteran suffering from PTSD and Panic Disorder, but unfortunately he passed away a few months ago,” he said.

“Alright, but then-” John started, as far as he understood these animals couldn’t be just passed around, but Ms Morrell didn’t let him finish.

“Sheriff, I do absolutely think that a service animal could help Stiles considerably, but the fact is, training a dog for him could take months - even if a program accepts him right away - and you don’t have the time for that if you want him to finish high school on schedule.”

John grimaced. That was probably true. Stiles shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable, so he put a hand on his son’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Of course,” doctor Deaton said, “This is only a temporary solution. I’m confident that Peter could help Stiles through the rest of the school year, and then you would have the time to get him his own dog in the summer.”

That seemed rational, but John was still uncertain. He looked at his son, Stiles was biting his lips, eyeing the dog for a few seconds before asking his own questions.

“Okay, so I heard that the presence of animals could, you know, calm down people, but how exactly can he help me?”

Doctor Deaton looked at his sister.

“Well, thankfully Peter’s previous owner had somewhat similar needs to yours. For example, Peter is trained to wake a person from a nightmare and turn on the light,” she said, probably noticing the dark circles under the eyes of both Stilinskies.

“He is also apt in recognizing panic attacks before they start, and can distract a person from whatever stresses them out. If that’s not possible he is able to guide his partner out to the open - if needed - and helps them calm down.”

John looked at the dog. It was staring out the window with a decidedly bored expression. Honestly, it didn’t look particularly helpful.

“And,” Ms Morrell continued, giving Stiles a meaningful look, “Since his owner was suffering from PTSD, Peter is trained to step into situations that are causing stress.”

Yeah, they’ve kind of talked about that. John and the counselor were pretty sure that Stiles was bullied, even though the kid wouldn’t admit to it no matter what, only god knows why. But that rose another set of questions.

Before he could open his mouth, doctor Deaton was already talking.

“That does not mean that Peter is in any way aggressive, in fact, service dogs are carefully trained to be friendly and non-threatening,” he said, though for some reason it seemed like he was talking to the dog. Peter looked back at the vet with his mouth open in something that could be called the equivalent of a grin.

“Of course,” Ms Morrell said with a nod before continuing. “ All he does is help to get a little breathing room. But even his mere presence  can still be very useful in… keeping unpleasant individuals in a safe distance. Not to mention that having an animal around is great help in building social connection,” She finished, glancing at John.

They’ve also talked about that. Stiles - even though he had panic attacks from time to time for years - only gotten this bad since Scott moved away in the summer and school started back up. John was kind of hoping that if his son found new friends things would go back to normal.

“Well, that all sounds very good, he said carefully, looking at Stiles from the corner of his eye, "But I’m not the one who has to make this decision. Having a dog is a lot of responsibility…”

Peter took that moment to trod over to Stiles and put his large head on his thigh, bright blue eyes never leaving the boy’s.

Stiles snorted, scratching behind the animal’s ear.

“Alright, alright. You’re hired.”

Peter gave him a doggy grin, licking his teeth.

* * *

Peter didn’t particularly mind being a dog. The food wasn’t exactly stellar, but he had worse; at least the Stilinskies were nice enough - though boring - so he resigned himself for an unexciting few months. It was still better than running for his life, so that was a plus. His new 'owner’ was a twitchy brat, but he did take him on walks and never forgot to give him fresh water. He was studying most of the time, chewing on whatever he could get his hands on. 

After an hour of watching him maul a pencil, Peter wanted to strangle him.

* * *

Monday couldn’t come soon enough; even though Peter was far from happy about suffering through high school again, he needed a bit of change after the terribly uneventful weekend. He was half convinced that the Stilinski kid was just oversensitive, considering his 'services’ weren’t needed even once, but his assumption was corrected soon.

Stiles was a ball of tension all morning; he had to try three times to get the blue vest on Peter and he kept blaring the old radio in his jeep. It was loud enough that Peter considered biting him, but his ears were good enough that he could hear the cluster of boys hanging out in the parking lot as soon as they parked.

“Ooh! See that, guys? The great  _Nutinski_ arrived with that rolling trashcan!” one of them said, and the others chortled in that annoying way only teenagers were capable of.

Stiles was sitting by the wheel, holding on to it with a white knuckled grip. The smell of anxiety was almost suffocating.

Peter huffed out a breath and climbed to the front seat, pushing his cold nose against Stiles neck fast enough to make the boy squeal in surprise, then pawed at the door until it opened. 

He could hear Stiles calling his name, scrambling to get his backpack, but he had other things to do.

He stopped by the car, and faced the little assholes. He kind of wanted to show a bit of teeth and make them wet their pants, but that would probably land him in trouble, so he just stared them in the eye, one-by-one.

Peter knew that his face wasn’t as expressive in this form, but he trusted his ability to perform a pretty convincing death-glare, no matter the situation. The pimply shitheads weren’t laughing anymore. 

By the time Stiles managed to get his things together, the group actually left, so that was a win. Stiles looked around in confusion, which told Peter that the harassment usually followed him in. Peter gave a little bark to get him back on task, and they headed inside.

* * *

They were stared at a lot. It made the boy anxious, but not enough to need help, so Peter assumed that getting ogled was still better than usual. He was kept on a leash - a bit too short for his liking - but considering that even in this form he was still 160+ lbs of muscle, the masses parted in front of them like the red sea.

Most teachers didn’t pay him much attention. He overheard the Sheriff’s call to the principals office, so they already knew that he was coming. Classes were mostly boring as hell. He spent his time people watching and making scalding comments about them in his head to entertain himself… Of course, he also noticed that the teachers were treating Stiles like they were walking on eggshells, which did nothing to keep the boy calm. At one point, Peter had to get up and nudge him in the thigh to get his head out of his ass, but that was all.

Stiles took him on a short walk during lunch break, and gave him some treats to chew on while he ate his sandwich under a tree.   
After that, it was Economics. Peter expected to be bored to death again, but instead he was greeted with a teacher who looked like a flock of birds took up residence in his hair.

“Stilinski, what the hell is that?” the man asked with a slightly hysterical tone.

Interestingly enough, he didn’t make Stiles nervous at all.

“Um… It’s my service dog, coach Finstock, I thought all the teachers were told about him?”

“What is it called?”

“Peter,” Stiles said. It was almost a question. The crazy guy just waved them away.

He read roll call at the start of class, and when he reached the end of the list of students with 'Wellington, Abigail’ he scribbled on his sheet and called out

“Hellbeast, Peter." 

Stiles moaned and buried his head in his hands. Peter looked Finstock dead in the eye and then barked once.

The whole class broke into laughter.

* * *

He thought that was all the excitement in store for them - and considering coach Finstock kept asking him questions when none the students would answer, he at least had some fun - but he was wrong again.

Chemistry was the last class and Stiles was growing more anxious and scared with every step they took towards the lab. Peter didn’t like that. He kind of needed this job because the last place anyone would look for him was a high school, so he had to make sure that the kid was okay.

Why Alan thought it was a good idea to make him responsible for the emotional stability of a teenager was another question.

The teacher was waiting for them in the door.

"Mr Stilinski,” he said with something close to a sneer, “I hope you don’t seriously think that I will let an animal into my classroom.”

Peter didn’t even had to concentrate to hear the way Stiles’ heart sped up, or how his breath was coming shallowly like he couldn’t get enough oxygen.

With great effort, he kept himself back from growling, but he did push Stiles back, standing between him and whoever this gigantic asshole was. Stiles was surprised for a second, but then managed to take a deep breath.

“Well, Mr Harris, according to the Americans with Disabilities Act, you will have to, unless you want to get the school sued,” he said finally, and his voice grew steadier with every word.

“Oh, really? And would you mind telling me what kind of service this beast even provides?”

Peter licked Stiles hand, to make it relax on his leash.

“Actually, I would. According to the ADA I don’t have to answer your questions,” he bit out, pushing inside by the teacher gaping in the door.

When they finally sat down, Stiles leaned down and pushed their foreheads together, scratching the thivk fur on his neck.

“Thanks, Peter,” he murmured, barely audibly.

It was nothing, really.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter… well. Saying that he warmed up to the whole service dog gig was a bit of a stretch, but it wasn’t as bothersome as it seemed at first.
> 
> The worst part was when kids stopped them in the hallways and asked Stiles if they could pet him. He was gracious enough to allow it, but only because Stiles always smelled like joy and excitement when people talked to him.
> 
> The boy was a bit pathetic, but Peter didn’t mind it, because he was also witty and a sarcastic little shit. Sometimes - after Peter had his walk - Stiles kept talking at him during lunch break, telling him little stories about the other students. More often than not Peter had to keep his reactions in check; having a dog snort at scathing anecdotes might have been suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Remember how this was supposed to be two chapters?  
> Well, it's not anymore.  
> Sigh.

Peter… well. Saying that he warmed up to the whole service dog gig was a bit of a stretch, but it wasn’t as bothersome as it seemed at first.

The worst part was when kids stopped them in the hallways and asked Stiles if they could pet him. He was gracious enough to allow it, but only because Stiles always smelled like joy and excitement when people talked to him.

The boy was a bit pathetic, but Peter didn’t mind it, because he was also witty and a sarcastic little shit. Sometimes - after Peter had his walk - Stiles kept talking at him during lunch break, telling him little stories about the other students. More often than not Peter had to keep his reactions in check; having a dog snort at scathing anecdotes might have been suspicious.

Well, no.

The worst part was when Stiles was having a panic attack.

* * *

It only happened once - on his second week on the job, during Chemistry, of course - Harris, after admitting defeat in not being able to keep Peter out had insisted on him having to wear protection equipment for his own ‘safety’ consisting of really annoying boots and protection glasses. Interestingly enough, he was quite lenient about the students wearing the same…

Not like Peter was one for excuses, but it was true that all that shit had distracted him from Stiles, and by the time he picked up on his heart beat going a mile a minute, it was already too late to nudge him out of it.

When he finally caught on to what was happening, he acted on instinct, grabbing Stiles’ shirtsleeve and pulling him out from behind the desk. The kid was wobbling for a second and Peter thought for a moment that he would have to drag him on the floor, but he thankfully gained his footing.

He was hyperventillating, looking at Peter with wide eyes like he wasn’t understanding what was happening. 

“Out,” he said, voice thready with a lack of air behind it, and that was all Peter needed.

Harris asked something in his usual tone of sneer and told Stiles to sit back, even though it was obvious that he wasn’t well. If Peter didn’t have other things to do, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from taking a leap at the guy.

But alas, he was busy.

He pulled Stiles to the door, glaring at the kid sitting closest, but it was the pale, blond girl two seats over who jumped up to open it.

Peter glanced at her, trying to remember her features - he didn’t like to be in debt.

After they were out of the classroom, it was easy to lead Stiles through the halls and to the front door.

The boy just kind of collapsed against the wall of the school, looking at the sky with eyes that probably didn’t even see anything. Peter was at a loss for a few seconds, until he remembered what Alan told him.

Well, first he pawed at his head until those stupid protective glasses came off and  _then_ , he burrowed close to Stiles, licking at his face slowly but steadily.

It took some time, but a few moments later the boy’s breathing eased up a little, and he fisted a shaky hand into Peter’s fur. He didn’t stop licking, though, knowing that they weren’t out of the woods yet.

Stiles gulped in a few, huge lungfuls of air until he had to cough - but it still sounded better than that hysteric, shallow gasping from before. It took almost fifteen minutes for him to calm down enough to push Peter’s head away with a tired snort.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine… Jesus, you licked the skin clear off my face,” he muttered, but then - to Peter’s surprise - he pulled him close, burying his face in his coat, holding him close.

* * *

Even though Peter thought the opposite would happen, after Stiles’ panic attach both the boy and his father warmed up to him considerably. It wasn’t like he felt responsible, but still. The Sheriff kept sneaking him food under the table - Peter wasn’t a big fan of turkey bacon, but it was leagues better than the dog food he was having, so he wasn’t complaining.

And Stiles… Stiles just wouldn’t stop with the petting and scratching and just generally touching Peter whenever he could.

Peter was a bit surprised at his lack of annoyance at the treatment.

* * *

Stiles growing more comfortable around him had an interesting side effect; other students started stopping them much more often. Before, they were likely intimidated by Peter’s size, but it was hard to keep up an appearance of menace when Stiles kept scratching his head and telling him what a 'good boy’ he was.

One of those kids - a boy named Danny - proved at least to be useful.

Apparently he loved dogs, and he was the best friend of one of Stiles’ main tormentors. Peter actually didn’t hate Jackson; he could smell that particular mix of ambition and self loathing on him that meant that the kid was a walking nervous breakdown waiting to happen - Peter considered him so far beneath himself that he barely even acknowledged him, even though he always had a few mean comments to throw Stiles’ way.

Having Danny on 'their side’ was beneficial in that regard, as the boy started to rein Jackson in quite nicely. Doing a few tricks of 'roll over’ and 'give me five’ were not a too high price…

* * *

Of course, Peter couldn’t forget that he was effectively living with a teenage boy. He noticed that Stiles had been reeking of frustration for a few days, so really, he shouldn’t have been surprised when one night the kid closed his door after finishing up with homework and started searching for porn. The nice thing to do would have been to leave him alone, but unfortunately a) Peter wasn’t nice and b) he was a service dog at the moment who really shouldn’t give a fuck about human porn.

That left Peter lying next to Stiles’ bed and watching him jerk of. 

He tried to keep himself detached from the situation, but it wasn’t easy considering that Stiles was actually pretty good looking - if someone were to ignore the gangliness and the awkwardness of teenage boys. The smell of his arousal was sweet and a touch bitter and even hours later when the whole house was asleep it wouldn’t leave Peter’s nose.

* * *

Eventually, he got his chance to pay back the pale girl. Stiles also had Spanish with her, and it was the middle of class when Peter smelled it. 

He didn’t now what exactly he was smelling, but it was bad; actually he thought that if impending doom had a smell, it was pretty close to this. At first he just sat up, moving closer to Stiles, but for once the boy was actually immersed in taking notes, as calm and collected as he was capable of.

Peter looked around, because he really, really didn’t like that smell - if nothing else, he wanted it away from his charge.

It was the blond girl. At first glance, Peter didn’t see anything wrong with her, but the more he sniffed the surer he was that something was going to happen to her. 

For a few seconds he weighted his options, wheter it would even be worth it to make a ruckus, but in the end he just heaved a sigh and started barking.

The whole class stopped, staring at him. Stiles’ heartbeat picked up, but when he saw that Peter was barking at the girl, he calmed down and tried to shush him.

Peter didn’t like to be shushed, so he just gently - but firmly - took the end of his lash from the boy and trod over to the girl, biting the hem of her shirt and pulling. She yelped in surprise, but in a second, her eyes widened, and she jumped up, rushing out the door with a shouted 'sorry’.

Stiles scolded him afterwards, but when during the next break the school nurse came up to them and told the boy that the girl - Erica - had a pretty bad epilepsy attack, he felt totally justified.

That night, Stiles took him on a long walk and let him on the couch to watch TV.

* * *

Peter didn’t like it when Stiles was having nightmares. First of all, they woke him up, and he liked his sleep undisturbed, thank you very much.

He also didn’t like the smell of terror radiating from the boy, so he turned on the lights and nudged him awake as fast as possible. Usually, Stiles was shaken - sometimes even his father was woken up - and afterwards Peter had to get into the bed with him, otherwise neither of them got any sleep.

Peter minded it less and less after every occasion.

He told himself he just missed a nice mattress.

* * *

One Monday, Stiles had a particularly bad day. Peter had to nudge him out of starting attacks no less than four times - two of them during Chemistry, unsurprisingly - and by the time they got home both of them were exhausted.

The Sheriff was out, having a long shift, so Stiles just kind of collapsed on his bed, and after tossing and turning for a few moments he unbuttoned his jeans and started touching himself.

Peter was kind of envious, if he had opposable thumbs at the moment, he might have resorted to the same just to get rid of all the pent up tension. Instead, he was doomed to watch Stiles jerk off with his nose filling with that peculiar, sweet scent. He really couldn’t help getting effected, and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about his own hard on was the cherry on top.

When the boy was finally finished basking in the aftershocks of his orgasm, Peter wanted to just bite his dick off in retaliation.

Stiles heaved a sigh and got up - probably to do his homework - but stuttered to a halt by Peter’s side.

“Ugh…” he kept looking at Peter’s cock that slid out of it’s sheath, resting red and fat against his stomach. “Um… Do dogs…? I mean. Shit. You’re a guy too. How fucked up is it that you can’t even touch your dick? I mean, I guess you could lick it…" 

Peter gave him an unimpressed glare that shut him up nicely.

To his surprise Stiles sat down beside him, seemingly mesmerized by the sight.

"Would you…? Fuck. You’re a fucking dog, you’re going to bite my arm off,” he muttered, but he squeezed his eyes together and reached out, touching Peter’s cock with just the very tip of his fingers.

He was so startled that he couldn’t help yipping, and that had Stiles yanking his hand back faster than lightning.

“Shit! Fuck, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, shit. I just… you’ve been helping me so much…" 

Before he could scramble off, Peter turned on his back, parting his legs. He had no idea where this whole thing would go, but the was interested in finding out.

Stiles gulped, glancing from Peter’s eyes to his cock.

"Shit. Okay, okay." 

He got up and got his lube out from the nightstand, plopping back down and pouring some in his palm, warming it between his fingers.

"This is water based, so it… it shouldn’t hurt dogs,” he said, flushing bright. Peter would have raised an eyebrow at that if he could.

“Not like I looked it up or anything. Well, yeah, fuck. Okay, I looked it up…" 

The next time he touched Peter, he was ready.

It felt incredible; after so long without relief he was starved for any kind of stimulation, and those clever fingers were just what he needed. Stiles bit his lips, eyes glued to Peter’s cock, fist tightening around it.

He whined, hips thrusting a bit even though he tried to stay still.

"You like that, boy?  _Oh my god_ … what the hell I’m doing?”

But his hand didn’t stop. It moved slowly and carefully until Peter was panting, tongue lolling out of his mouth. His knot was forming slowly with a shivery, itchy sensation. He hoped to god that the boy wouldn’t be scared by it, because if Stiles stopped now, Peter wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just tear his throat out.

Stiles, as always, exceeded all expectations.

As soon as he saw the knot, he made a choked off little moan and shifted closer. He lubed up his other hand too and put it around the knot, squeezing down around the swollen flesh.

Peter whined again - he felt too good to be mortified by the fact that his tail was actually wagging, sweeping against the floor.

Stiles cursed, quickening his hand and tightening the other rhythmically around the knot.

“That’s okay, Peter, I’ve got you… You just… do your thing…” he said, sounding strangely out of breath for someone who was giving a hand job to a dog.

For once, Peter didn’t have to be told twice.

* * *

Stiles gave him an awkward bath afterwards - since his fur got come stuck in it everywhere - refusing to look him in the eye and then did his homework silently.

Peter never liked to be given the cold shoulder, so he kept obnoxiously close, resting his head on the boy’s thighs and giving him his best puppy eyes until Stiles just snorted and patted his head.

“Guess you… enjoyed it then,” he muttered.

When Stiles went to bed that night, Peter jumped up after him. The boy tried to shoo him away without conviction, but admitted defeat soon enough, shifting to the side so Peter could curl up against him.

“What have I done?” he whined, but actually, it was the best sleep the both of them had in ages.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things changed a bit after that fateful Monday - in Peter’s honest opinion to the better. Of course, Stiles had to first work through his moral dilemmas; not like it took him too much time, Peter has long since learned that the boy was almost as much of a pragmatic as himself. He needed some reassurance, that was all, and Peter was happy to provide it.
> 
> He was never shy about getting hard, waiting patiently until Stiles finished getting off himself before rolling to his back to show off his aching cock. Stiles hesitated less and less, and after a time it was their routine.
> 
> Peter would have felt bad for using the boy - well, no, he probably wouldn’t have felt bad, let’s be honest - but he didn’t need to, considering he could smell the delectable scent of arousal whenever the boy put his hands around him.
> 
> Really, watching Stiles flushed face, the way he parted his lips slightly, eyes never leaving Peter’s cock… it was half of the pleasure.
> 
> He also took up permanent residence in the boy’s bed. He didn’t do anything untoward, but Peter was never one to deny himself, and the way their scents blended together under the soft covers was something that he particularly enjoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so as it stands, I have no idea if I will write another chapter to tie this off - since the prompt is now filled - but it’s not out of the question…

Things changed a bit after that fateful Monday - in Peter’s honest opinion to the better. Of course, Stiles had to first work through his moral dilemmas; not like it took him too much time, Peter has long since learned that the boy was almost as much of a pragmatic as himself. He needed some reassurance, that was all, and Peter was happy to provide it.

He was never shy about getting hard, waiting patiently until Stiles finished getting off himself before rolling to his back to show off his aching cock. Stiles hesitated less and less, and after a time it was their routine.

Peter would have felt bad for using the boy - well, no, he probably wouldn’t have felt bad, let’s be honest - but he didn’t need to, considering he could smell the delectable scent of arousal whenever the boy put his hands around him.

Really, watching Stiles flushed face, the way he parted his lips slightly, eyes never leaving Peter’s cock… it was half of the pleasure.

He also took up permanent residence in the boy’s bed. He didn’t do anything untoward, but Peter was never one to deny himself, and the way their scents blended together under the soft covers was something that he particularly enjoyed.

* * *

Peter also found other ways to amuse himself. It needed some very careful set up, but he managed to get away while Stiles was in the showers after PE and meticulously chewed through every single tire on Harris’ car.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid, so he managed to stage the unavoidable confrontation right on the route principal Davis took when he headed to the gym to watch the cheerleader practice. Davis was kind of a pervert, but what neither Stiles, nor Harris knew, was that the man also liked to watch the boys during PE - the only class where Peter didn’t have to shadow Stiles. Naturally, he spent that time getting into the principal’s good graces; Peter worked on him for weeks, getting to the point that the guy was carrying dog treats in his pocket for when they would meet.

And so, when Harris started on spewing some bullshit about how he will have Peter removed from the premises and possibly put down he didn’t expect his boss to tell him to basically fuck off.

Peter was sure that he would never forget Harris’ face as he watched the principal feed Peter some snacks right then and there while hinting that he was actually considering promoting him to school mascot.

Afterwards, on the way home Stiles kept sneaking awed glances at him.

Peter didn’t particularly mind.

* * *

Of course, weekends were the best.

The Sheriff wasn’t the kind of sadistic parent who would demand his child to be up early, so mornings were usually spent with lazing around.

Once his nightmares were taken care of, Stiles was actually a champion sleeper. Not only could he sleep in incredibly ridiculous positions, he could also keep at it for twelve hours straight.

Peter - being both an adult and a werewolf - didn’t need far that much shut eye, so he just passed the time laying in bed, enveloped in their combined scent. It was kind of addictive. A better man would have probably realized how creepy it was to spend hours watching a sleeping teenager, but Peter was certainly not one of those. 

Stiles was controversial even when he wasn’t awake; his face looked both younger, all smooth and relaxed and more mature in the stillness.

The times when Stiles had morning wood were torture. The scent of sleep and arousal radiating from his skin was maddening, especially when he was only wearing loose boxers. Peter really couldn’t be faulted for being unable to control himself.

So far, Stiles was the one to physically initiate their sexual encounters, but that was about to change.

The boy was on his back, so Peter shuffled closer without trouble, first just burying his nose in his neck and taking short, delicious sniffs of the soft skin there, then he started licking carefully. Stiles tasted amazing. He never had the chance before to do this, the only time he licked the boy was when he was in - or on the verge of - a panic attack, and the bitter, heavy flavor of distress overpowered everything.

But not now. Now, Peter could really taste him, admiring every single note in his sweat without disturbance.

It didn’t take long for Stiles to start shifting on the bed, one of his hands came up, grasping Peter’s thick fur and pulling his head closer. Even though it was completely unintentional, it still felt like a victory.

Peter stood and gently maneuvered himself until he was laying on Stiles, bathing his neck and chin in sloppy doggy kisses. His cock was hard, just as hard as the boy’s and the friction of them together was better than anything he felt since he became a service dog.

He shifted his hips, chasing the sensation, unable to keep a little growl from escaping at the pleasure, and just like that, Stiles eyes fluttered open. He was confused for a few seconds, but Peter didn’t want to give him a chance to withdraw, so he thrust again. 

Stiles eyes widened but at the same time his lips formed a perfect, tiny ‘o’ on a silent moan. Peter licked the corner of his mouth, and with the next nudge of his cock he managed to slip his dick up the leg of Stiles boxers.

“P-Pet.. shit…”

He could barely think after that, rutting against the boy’s own erection.

Thankfully Stiles wasn’t far behind, he fisted his hands in Peter’s fur where it was the longest at the back of his neck. 

Peter could have howled when he felt the boy’s hips moving to meet him, pushing up against him, back trying to arch of the bed even with him holding his body down.

They came like that, almost together, making a giant mess of the inside of Stiles’ underwear. Peter kept licking at Stiles face afterwards, basking in the aftershocks as much as he did in the ecstatic expression on the boy’s face.

* * *

It became a thing. Peter had a pretty punctual internal clock, meaning that he was usually awake before the alarm. The Sheriff was rarely home in the mornings, so he didn’t even have to be careful.

As much as Stiles was gobsmacked by the development as first, he was always, always so eager, clutching at him and whining so sweetly. Peter didn’t always pop a knot - he couldn’t come as fast when he did - but on those occasions the boy always took care of him after his own orgasm, taking him into his hands and squeezing down just right until Peter spilled over those elegant, pale fingers.

* * *

Stiles - even though he was the only one who found it hard to believe - acquired some friends. Erica was the first, after her epilepsy attach, she would sometimes stop to chat and give a very nice belly rub to Peter. With Erica came her boyfriend Boyd. He wasn’t exactly the chatty type, but he had a deadpan humor that wasn’t lost on Stiles.

Soon enough, they were eating lunch together. 

Of course, in the delicate hierarchy of high school, their table inevitably became the 'loser’ table, and that was when Isaac joined them. He was living with his aunt after some messy shit that happened with his father and nobody liked to talk about.

Peter didn’t mind. 

Stiles having friends meant that he wasn’t so twitchy - well, not after he got used to socializing again - and that the bullies mostly quit harassing him.

Losers in numbers were harder prey, apparently.

* * *

Peter wasn’t sure what happened, but one day he found himself locked out of Stiles’ room. His first reaction - though he definitely wasn’t proud of it - was panic. He strained his hears, trying to hear anything out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. He could only hear Stiles heartbeat, a little faster than usual, but still steady. That was good. Not being able to see Stiles? Not so good.

He stood on his hind legs and scratched at the door, but all he got was a muffled 'Wait a minute!’. 

Peter was seriously considering just shifting back to human, but before he could come to a decision, the door finally opened.

He strolled in, looking around, just to make sure that everything was okay before he turned to Stiles.

And then he stopped, ears twitching with barely concealed excitement.  
Stiles was naked. His back was tensed as he locked the door behind Peter.

“So.”

He didn’t dare hope that this was what he thought he was, but some careful sniffing told him that Stiles had used quite a bit of lube recently…

“I… have no ida what I’m doing. Oh my god,” the boy said, closing his eyes.

Peter wanted to taste the bright blush on his face and neck.

Stiles was hard, though his embarrassment made him flag a bit. Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Peter walked up to him, keeping eye contact, and licked his cock slowly.

The boy moaned, curling over him, but pushed his head away after a minute.

“Stop, shit…”

Peter backed up obediently, he didn’t want to scare the boy after all.

Stiles just breathed for a few seconds, trying to regain his composure.

“Okay. Okay fuck.” He kneeled down, hugging Peter to him and murmuring into his fur. “This. This absolutely stupid. But… I won’t make you do it, okay? I will just… have to see if you want to…”

Stiles let go of him and shuffled to the bed, resting his chest on it with his ass jutting out in invitation. He was looking back at Peter uncertainly, biting his lips, but true to his words didn’t try call him closer or further encourage him.

Not like Peter needed encouragement.

He stood, walking up behind Stiles, listening to the fast drumming of his heart. He was so hard that it almost hurt, but he wasn’t about to just climb on without any foreplay. He was a gentleman.

The boy jumped a bit when he felt Peter’s cold nose nudging between his cheeks, then moaned when he started licking at him. Peter could taste lube - not his favorite, though he was happy that the boy prepared himself - and underneath it lust and… Stiles. It was a heady combination.

After he made sure that the boy wasn’t stupid enough to start this without getting ready, he hopped on.

Stiles’ breath hitched, and Peter stilled, waiting to see if everything was okay. Apparently it was, because the boy fisted his hands in the sheets and pushed his ass back.

Alright, then.

Peter bent down to lick at the back of his neck as he poked his cock forward. It was a bit difficult to aim without his hands to guide him, but he managed, and when he finally found his mark, he slid in in one easy thrust.

Stiles cried out, body tensing, but the overpowering smell of his lust didn’t dampen, so Peter took that as his clue to move.

Stiles wanted to be fucked by a dog, so Peter was going to give him exactly that.

He didn’t hold himself back as his hips started moving, lurching forward with enough force behind them to jar Stiles’ whole body.

It was amazing. The boy had closed his eyes, biting into the sheets to keep himself quiet, shivering under Peter’s thrusts. It took an embarrassingly short time for his knot to start forming and finally being able to bury it in a hot, wet hole was like heaven. Peter really couldn’t help himself; he had to bite down on the back of Stiles neck - careful not to bruise or break skin, just holding him down like his instincts dictated.

Feeling the growing knot catching on his rim made Stiles wild. His eyes snapped open and he didn’t try to keep quiet anymore, moaning and gasping for breath on every push.

Peter wished he could tell him how good he was doing, how well he was taking it, but he had to make do with licking at his skin between gentle bites.

His cock stuck on the next thrust, filling rapidly inside the boy’s soft, velvety hole. Stiles’ eyes rolled back to his head and he just panted, soft pink lips open and puffy. The stretch must have been painful, but he didn’t seem to feel it. As soon as Peter stilled the boy reached a hand down under himself and started jerking of.

It took about two pulls for him to come, body clenching down hard on Peter’s knot, making him want to howl in pleasure.

Stiles’ aftershocks milked his dick until he was coming too, spurting thick jets of come into his pliant body.

The boy lay under him unmoving, chest heaving with exhaustion. He reached up, patting Peter’s head.

“G… g-good boy,” he murmured. 

Peter would have chuckled if he could. He wanted to say the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it! (or hit me up at udunie.tumblr.com)


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